


i talk aloud (like you're still around)

by orgiastique



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, future canon but with mind-reading, jean's inner-mind eren appreciation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 04:45:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1497112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orgiastique/pseuds/orgiastique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the theme of Jean's inner-mind Eren appreciation and "I'm so glad you're alive."</p>
            </blockquote>





	i talk aloud (like you're still around)

On the nights before an expedition, it's always a little quieter in the barracks. No snores booming heavy as hammers against the thin walls, no scuffling of people trying to get off sneakily underneath their covers, no whispered invitations of _Hey, anyone wanna sneak out to town tomorrow_? On these nights, everyone lies in bed, drowning lightly in shallow slumber or wading in shared, unvoiced fears, wondering if this is the last time they will see stars hanging outside the window, all winky and cheerful and immeasurable distances removed from earthly suffering.

Eren tries to rest. He has a whirlwind of thoughts that won't leave him alone, but he's been on enough of these expeditions now to know that resting, rather than swimming laps in his mind, is what will benefit him most when morning comes.

He's just about crossed over to the world of the unconscious when he hears Jean calling his name. He groans, scowling.

"What do you want," he hisses without turning his head.

No reply. Jean just keeps calling his name, with growing urgency edging raggedly on desperation. Eren's face softens with concern as he pushes himself onto his elbows and squints at Jean from across the aisle to see if maybe he's delirious from some sudden illness and needs help.

Except Jean isn't even awake. He's turning a bit, but his eyes are screwed shut.

And well, Eren's not sure where he stands on this right now because on one hand, he's pissed about being awake, but he's also kind of unsettled by the way Jean is still repeating his name, over and over, like he's trying to call him back from the dead.

Eren considers this.

Is that what's going on in Jean's dreams? Is he seeing Eren die in front of him? Does Jean...dream often of him? In how many of them is he dying? Does Jean always sound so heartbroken over it?

(More importantly, _why_? Could it be for the same reasons Eren would cry bitter, angry tears if he had to watch Jean's bones burn before his eyes?)

Eren bites his lip. He's about to push all these useless ponderings aside and roll back to sleep when he pauses for a moment, leaning as far over the edge of his bed without rolling off because he can almost swear...

Jean's lips aren't moving. Eren can still hear his voice, but his lips aren't moving.

For the longest time, Eren just keeps blinking, uncomprehending, before slowly, dazedly, he retreats back under his covers, pulling it up to his chin. He stares at the dust on the ceiling.

> Jaeger.
> 
> Don't fuck me, Jaeger, this isn't funny, you--you're--oh god.

Jean's words sound wet, thrashing raw and rough in their formation.

> Look at me.
> 
> ...Please. Please, Eren.
> 
> Open your eyes. Let me see your eyes.
> 
> Eren. Don't lea--you can't leav--I can't--

Eren sucks in his cheeks, pulse racing in the choked silence after that thought cuts off. He doesn't know how to take any of this. All he knows is that he really didn't need this tonight.

 

Come to think of it, he does remember overhearing the squad leaders whispering conspiratorially about a certain condition that's been going around like the flu in the aftermath of one of Hange's experiments. It jumps from person to person, lending them access to an additional mind for a day. How Eren contracted this _thing_ or why the mind he's unlocked is Jean's will probably remain an eternally unsolved mystery. He won't think of fate or meant-to-be, like any of this is planned, because that would require belief in an all too cruel higher power he would rather pretend doesn't exist. 

It's not that important, anyway, especially at a time like this.

He meets the next morning groggy and restless. He'd lain awake listening to Jean's inner-mind theater play on dramatically through the night, and by the time the moon swung across the sky he'd long passed the stage of wondering how Jean's subconscious feels about him and moved on to considering how he could stuff Jean's mouth without suffocating him.

(Though he supposes that that wouldn't even do much help, considering Jean--the freak--isn't actually speaking from his lips. Maybe Eren just needed an excuse to think about covering Jean's mouth in some context, possibly with his own.)

He revels in the peace of his own mind for a few moments until footsteps approach the divide between his bed and Jean's. From the soft shuffling noises, Eren can tell it's Jean moving around it. Jean pauses whatever he's doing for a moment. Eren cracks his eyes open a slit to see the backside of Jean looking down at his own bed, a hand propped at his waist.

> Might die today, what's the point of making my bed covers look neat.
> 
> But Eren's gonna bitch at me later if I live.
> 
> I'm going to have to live if I want to--I mean--not that I'm gonna--
> 
> Better make my bed.
> 
> Dammit, Eren.
> 
> ...Is he even awake?

Eren hurriedly squeezes his eyes shut when Jean turns on his heel towards him, face coming unnecessarily close. He can feel the warmth of Jean's breath when he clicks his tongue.

> 'Course not. Lazy bastard.

It takes all the nerve in Eren's body to steel himself against flinching when Jean's hand lands tentatively on his hairline, barely touching, thumb brushing back part of his bangs in a jerky, awkward stroke.

> Shitty long eyelashes.
> 
> Wish I could see his eyes though.
> 
> Fucking pretty.

Eren's heart slams too hard against his ribs. He takes a sharp breath, like the wind's been knocked out of him. It's the impending mission, right? Surely, it's the fear of disappearing into the abyss of a titan's gut that's made Jean all weird, right? Jean's never, ever, ever let on to thinking about him like this. Thinking that he's...pretty?

> God, I'm turning into a creep. Staring at him in his sleep.
> 
> Need some air.

Eren waits until Jean's too-resolute footsteps fade down the stairs to let out the breath he's been holding in a sharp exhale. He's lost signal of Jean's voice inside his head, too, thank god. He touches a finger to the place Jean's hand rested, tracing the area of contact that tingles, a little.

Today, they will attempt to reclaim the town of Karanese, the eastmost district of Wall Rose, for the fifth time. They've been told since the third that there will be no next time, and Eren fears that the big bosses are going to deliver on their threat. Society within the inner walls is in turmoil, people are hurting for food and money, and the Scouting Legion is facing more criticism than ever for draining human and material resources.

The responsibility to ensure the success of the mission weighs crushingly heavy on Eren's shoulders. This is no time to think about his kinda-maybe-possibly-very-real crush.

But they're only seventeen, teenagers whose minds and bodies were forced into adulthood by virtue of circumstance. Who can blame them if their hearts don't always quite catch up?

 

While Eren cannot deny that hearing Jean's thoughts about him brings these nice butterfly-fluttery sensations to his stomach, hearing Jean's thoughts also means being distracted by them when he cannot afford to be.

The thing is, Jean thinks, _a lot_. His mind is constantly spinning with a jumble of things, each extending out to the next, forming a highway map of ideas and feelings and possibilities. When Jean's not thinking about Eren, the voice inside his head is calm, fast-paced, and rational--not cold, per se, but also not heated with emotion (usually some blend of irritation and frustration) the way Eren's used to hearing Jean speak to him.

It is a bit of a handicap, trying to process your own thoughts about how to survive the next titan that comes barreling at them over Jean's constant mumble-rumble. Soon enough, though, the orders for him to shift free him from his predicament as he bites down on the palm of his hand and loses Jean's voice under the rush of blood in his ears, the thunder of his own roar.

This is where they have failed before, where they lost too many men and women to push on. This is where Eren needs to concentrate, invest every fragment of his being into manipulating the titans surrounding them and completely entrust his own safety to Squad Kirschtein.

The mission goes by in a blur of blood and screaming and steam--all the horrible makings of titan encounters. Eren tries not to commit the details to memory. He slips into a state too dreamlike for that, anyway, and besides he doesn't need it, won't need a single memory of the horrors he's seen when in his old age he will be lying in the sand with the ocean at his toes and the sky blue as the prettiest cornflower above him, and maybe the fingers with which his own are entwined will be the long, nimble ones he's spent too much time sneaking glances at because fuck, what asshole makes strapping on titan-killing gear look hot?

Right now, though. Right now, in this moment, in the middle of battle, Eren doesn't need anything but to see the yolk yellow flare lift into the sky, an ephemeral monument of their success because finally finally fina--wait. The ten-meter class at his feet is twitching back to life. The cut at his neck was too shallow.

Someone below him is shouting, "This is the last one in Karanese! Defeat it and victory will be ours!"

Eren has no doubt in his mind that what remains of the Scouting Legion will be more than enough to take down this monster. Just when he's about to leave them to it and collapse against himself, muscles numb, joints mannequin-loose, he sees the ten-meter class lift its hand toward the zipline of the person flying above its head, who--oh. Oh no no _no_ of course who else would it be but _Squad Leader Kirschtein_ himself who has a hideous slash across his thigh _god_ this can't be happening because they've finally brought the mission to success, they're going to make it out of this alive, together, and they're going to give each other a piece of their mind without the help of voodoo telepathy and they're going to stop yanking at each other's shirt collars for the wrong reasons, but for that to happen they've both got to live they gotta they--

Eren slams his body forward toward the titan, sending both of them crashing towards the ground. As they go down the titan latches its teeth on Eren's shoulder and tugs hard, trying to fight its fall. It takes an entire half minute for Eren to realize that fuck _fuck_ that hideous damn thing had incised all the way through his titan form's neck and tore across his torso so that his stomach and heart have lost all nerval connection with each other.

"Eren!" two voices cry at the same time. One of them is Mikasa, who materializes out of thin air the way she always does, zipping across his line of vision and swinging behind the other titan. With a rolling growl, she sinks her blades into the nape of the beast and Eren feels it go limp against him, a wasteland of disintegrating flesh.

The other voice nears, still calling his name with irritating familiarity. He'd spend all last night listening to this track on repeat, after all.

> Eren Eren Eren Eren Eren dammit Eren couldn't you have kept your shitty hot-headed rashness under control for a minute christ I'm going to get you out of this mess--

"Mikasa! Fire the signal flare! I'm pulling Eren out," Jean shouts.

Eren wants to tell him to calm down, regain a bit of the rationality that's brought him so far, because he should be used to this. On the way back to base at the end of previous missions, Eren murkily been aware of Jean swinging his horse by to see him mangled and clouded with regenerative steam and he had never shown the faintest indication that seeing Eren that way affected him at all.

But then again, for all Eren knows Jean could be the face of calm right now on the outside, and the key difference is that Eren can only hear his thoughts.

> \--you're such a fucking shithead I don't need you saving me I don't care if you can regenerate your vital organs--

Arms hook underneath his armpits and give an insistent yank that extricates Eren's detached upper body from his titan form. His body feels light without his legs. His body feels heavy with exhaustion.

> His entire--it's all--his ribs--they're just--

"Can you hear me? Eren." Jean's actual voice sounds considerably more put-together than the horrified, breathless one he's thinking with.

Eren opens his mouth to answer in the affirmative but realizes with a rush of air leaving his open body cavity that he cannot actually speak. Guess his stomach was good for things other than break up food. He gives a faint nod instead.

He doesn't have the strength or concentration to use his eyes but he wants to see Jean's face.

He wants to look into his eyes and search. Search for all the unvoiced words he's been privy to over the past day.

It's unfortunate the idea is only occurring to him now, at the most inconvenient moment.

"You're such a fucking dumbass," Jean grits.

Oh, did he make sure Eren can hear just to say that. That isn't very nice to someone who's missing half their body. But he does make up for it--a little, Eren adds stubbornly--by being extra gentle and careful about cradling Eren against his side and tucking in his arms so that he's in a neat little package, bloody side elevated slightly, before activating his 3DMG and sending the two of them flying with a whip and hiss. Eren wishes wistfully that he had enough blood in his veins to coordinate wrapping his arms around Jean's neck as they sail through the air, but at least his cheek is pressed one side of Jean's chest, where he can hear his heart racing faster than his mind.

> Needa get these ribs wrapped up oh god it's so horrible I'm going to throw up all over him. He's amazing, his entire lower half is missing and there's blood dripping out of him, how is he not screaming right now.

When they reach flat ground, Jean stumbles forward, balanced knocked askew by the weight of Eren in his arms and his bad leg, but his grip on Eren is iron-tight, and Eren doesn't get dumped onto the grass. By this point, Eren's mostly out, drifting fuzzily between the blurry shapes around him and a long, deep slumber. He feels the heat of a crowd of people gathering by his side, murmuring in anxious hushes, his name dancing across their lips, but none of their words register in his mind with any meaning. Except--

> Oh god. His face is so pale. This is going to be it this time he's not going to luck out this is it.
> 
> Don't do this to me.
> 
> You can't die on me, you suicidal asshole.
> 
> Don't you _dare_ do this to me.

Eren thinks he should be a little less taken by this than he actually is, right now. By the fact that Jean doesn't want him to die. Of course Jean doesn't. They're comrades, they're in this together, they've been through so much together; of course Jean doesn't want him to die, regardless of whether or not he values Eren as something other than long-time teammates.

But still, the way Jean says it--thinks it, rather--gets to him. Like he doesn't want Eren to die, because a bit of him will die with him.

> You fucking _can't_. Not when--when--
> 
> God dammit Eren.
> 
> Look at me.
> 
> _Look_ at me

In that moment, Eren feels like he'd give anything to grant Jean just that. But even as he's considering forcing his lead-heavy eyelids open by strength of pure will, he's already gone.

 

Eren slips in and out of consciousness for the next few days. In the deepest parts of his slumber he hears Jean calling out to him, in the same words he'd heard before he passed out on the battlefield. His voice is softer this time, though, like he must keep these feelings a secret even in the safety of his own mind. Eren wonders not for the first time if he should really be listening in on things meant for his ears, but Jean is addressing him, seems to address Eren an awful lot without saying any of it out loud.

But Eren supposes it's the nature of their relationship: they shout the rudest things at each other in these catastrophic collisions of opinions but can't gather the nerve to say the most honest, obvious things like "thank you for saving my life."

For example,

> I didn't need you to save me, asshole. How would I live with myself if you di--if you--if you didn't make it because of me? Heroism is fucking selfish, you know.

That's definitely not a thank you. It's kind of the opposite of a thank you, but also not exactly because there Jean is again, admitting that he wants Eren alive. And oh god, his voice sounds so real, like he's actually saying the words instead of just thinking them.

That's when Eren realizes with a jolt that oh--maybe this isn't just a dream. The scritchiness of the blanket against his arm and the light beating down on his eyelids urge him into full consciousness, and when he finally opens his eyes there's a hand hovering over his face and his unfocused gaze meets Jean's panicked one as he jerks his hand back.

"Oh, you're--awake. Good. I was just"--he waves his hand--"checking to see if you were burning a fever."

Eren doesn't say anything. It's quiet. He doesn't hear the babbling of Jean's mind anymore. He prefers this, he finds, when there is only him and Jean. If they're struggling, at least they're struggling together.

He's trying to catch Jean's gaze. Jean looks so young, like this, avoiding Eren's eyes. (Hey, aren't these the very eyes he wanted to see so badly!?)

"And! I'm only here to bring you food because I thought Mikasa needed a break," Jean continues. "She hasn't slept since you knocked out. She's sleeping now though. She'll be happy to hear that you haven't turned into a vegetable. I should go tell her--"

Eren darts out a hand from beneath his blanket, latching on tight to Jean's forearm.

Jean turns back in surprise. "What."

"Don't go yet."

Jean waits for an explanation, and when none comes, he sits back down. "Uh, okay. I guess we should let her rest for a little bit more."

Eren almost wants to laugh. Because maybe if he'd looked a little closer, if he'd been a little less convinced that he was the only one whose his heart swells like a balloon, big and hollow, when he looked at Jean sometimes, he'd have seen it so long ago. Jean's not nearly as good at denying his feelings as he probably hopes to be. Neither of them are.

Jean shifts in his chair. "Do you...need anything? I can get you stuff since I'm here. A book maybe? Some water? There's water here."

"Water," Eren says, cracking mid-word. He sounds like he ate glass.

"Here, I'll help you up," Jean says. His hands are reaching out and doing that hovering thing again, unsure of whether or not it's okay to touch, which is so stupid because Eren's pretty sure that they've grappled at each other more than they've grappled at anyone else in the last five years. He supposes they've never done it with one of them in bed, though.

Pity, that.

"Don't wanna get up," Eren says, part laziness and part actually not feeling strength in his muscles. He suspects someone was nice enough to inject him with something or another to keep him happy and sedated while his limbs regenerated.

"You'll spill water everywhere," Jean says, reasonably, very patient. "Come on, you're thirsty, aren't you?"

"If you feed it to me by mouth, I won't have to sit up," Eren says.

For a moment, Jean pauses, as if actually considering this, before he catches the smirk curving around Eren's lips and retracts his hand, flopping back against his chair with a groan. "You're such an ass. Can't believe I tried being nice for once and you make a joke out of me."

Eren laughs, a little. "Who said I was only joking?"

Jean scowls, but Eren's more intent on the flush of red across his cheekbones. He has nice cheekbones, all high and sharp. "Whatever."

No one speaks after that, and Eren's about to drift off, eyelids drooping half-closed when he feels Jean tucking his arm back underneath the covers gently. Eren slides his hand toward Jean's.

"What are you--"

Eren finds Jean's fingers and twists them with his own. "Just till I fall asleep."

"You're being weird," Jean says, but doesn't try to break the hold.

"They put me on meds, didn't they?" Eren says, even though this, wanting to hold Jean's hand and keep him close, is neither an effect of the meds nor a recent development. "You're weird, too."

Eren feels Jean's shrug in the tug of his hand. "You take the prize, though."

"Jean," Eren says.

Jean makes a questioning sound.

"Are you glad I made it out of there alive?"

Eren can hear the frown in Jean's tone: "Obviously? You know that's a pretty shitty thing to ask? Aren't you always glad people make it out alive, regardless of who they are?"

"I'm glad you're alive," Eren says.

The pause sounds excruciatingly long to Eren's ears even though in reality no more than a few seconds have passed.

"Yeah?" Jean says, hesitantly, sounding slightly wary of where this conversation is headed. To be honest, Eren doesn't know where he's leading them either, except that he just really wanted to say--

"If you died, I wouldn't have even been able to lose you because I never had you in the first place." His tongue feels sluggish as he speaks, beginning to lose the battle against sleep. He perseveres because he is a soldier. Because he is not done. "I'd be sad. Might even have to get you a gravestone just to kick it a few times every year."

(Silence.)

(Silence.)

Jean chuckles, in soft, tumbling waves. "You're horrible. Stop imagining me dying before you do, you suicidal maniac."

"Then don't have nightmares about me dying in your arms, asshole," Eren murmurs, words slurred together. Vaguely, he hears Jean making a startled noise, but if he pushes for an explanation, Eren doesn't catch the question.

As his eyelids slide shut, he wonders if Jean wishes him sweet dreams. He can dream about Jean wishing him sweet dreams, maybe. In this dream, the beach is their home. They would lie by the ocean all day, the lambently gold sand beneath them their rug and the wildly blue firmament of the sky above them their roof. The waves are their coffee table. When night comes, their friends are the stars and their freedom is the moon.

He dreams of a world where every time Jean whispers at him to open his eyes it will not because he's afraid he'll never see them again; where they can fall asleep next to each other holding hands, tell each other good night, and not wonder if this will be the last time those words leave their lips; where the most intimate of confession is not a trembling "I'm so glad you're alive" but a steady "I'm so, so in love with you."

For now, it's fine if there are things they cannot voice to each other--better for their pride and sanity, anyway--but he hopes that when they do let their thoughts take on sound, it will not be when they're pretending the other is still around.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "West Coast" by Coconut Records. Thank you for reading! (ó㉨ò)ﾉ♡


End file.
